


Memories In Midnight

by starkpilot



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkpilot/pseuds/starkpilot
Summary: If there’s one thing Tony needs to learn, it’s to be careful of what he wishes for.





	Memories In Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this fic took so long to finish.. it's the largest fic I've written to date and I'm pretty pleased with it!
> 
> This is set during Avenger (2010) #12 and goes off canon from here. All events prior are taken into account. Knowing backstory to the comic might be helpful but shouldn't be necessary!
> 
> HUGE thank you to @CapnShellhead and ron for editing this for me. I would be a mess without you both!

Steve had never doubted Tony Stark. Disagreed with his thoughts and actions, yes, but never doubted Tony knew what he was doing.

 

Steve had trusted Tony to bring them to Parker Robbins, to help them get the Infinity Gems back, to help him lead the team of new Avengers he had assembled.

 

It seemed it was always his downfall—trusting Tony.  

 

His chest burned as he recalled the betrayal. He didn’t understand why Tony hid the Illuminati from him. _It was a reasonable excuse,_ the rational part of his brain said, and Steve knew it was true: no one is sure who they could trust anymore; not after the Skrulls. But it didn’t stop the immense ache in his very soul at the idea of Tony keeping such a monumental secret from him. He thought back to Tony telling him the Illuminati had been meeting ever since the Kree/Skrull invasion and _that_ had hurt more than anything. He’d been prepared for Tony to be upset about Steve being back, about Tony no longer leading the team. He could have trusted Steve. He should know that, instead of running around and having meetings behind everyone’s back— _behind_ _his_ _back—Goddamnit Tony—_

 

Steve had told him to leave once the gems were found. He was so blinded by rage and hurt and he just snapped. Tony hadn’t said a word and Steve desperately wished the Iron Man suit no longer covered Tony’s eyes. He had learned years ago that Tony’s Achilles heel was his own vibrant blue eyes.

 

Steve never doubted Tony because he loved him; it was his own Achilles heel.   

 

Even now, as he watches Tony wield the Infinity Gauntlet, he doesn’t doubt that Tony knows what he’s doing with it. The gauntlet fits over the armor like it was destined to be there, like Tony was destined to control it. The Hood is condemning Tony, telling him what he plans on doing with the gauntlet is no different than the plans he had himself, and Steve listens as Tony explains all the potential possibilities he could explore. Steve understands the power of the gems and knows they’re almost communicating with Tony in a way.

 

“I could take back things I should have never said or done.” Steve looks at Tony and he knows that while the armor isn’t facing him, Tony is looking at him too. He knows he’s talking about the war, about the vile words they spat at each other. Steve still remembers the crunch of the armor underneath his shield. He shudders at the memory of Tony’s broken voice whispering, “ _finish it”,_ and he feels sick to his stomach.

 

Tony talks about creating a world where violence doesn’t exist; a world where drugs and alcohol aren’t used as a crutch. He knows the part about alcohol is personal to Tony.

 

Steve recognizes the strength it takes to fight off the power of the gauntlet. He prays Tony can fight it and not fall victim to the power-hungry gems. He has hope and that in itself is a dangerous game, but hope is the only thing Steve has left, the last tangible thing he can hold onto in his life.

 

“I’m only going to do two little things,” Tony says to Robbins. Steve looks around, sees the other Avengers looking at Tony with such fascination and fear. He wishes the Hood back to where he belongs and suddenly it’s just them and the Avengers, standing in the open ruins. There’s a painful silence as everyone watches Tony carefully, trying to decipher what his second wish is. The hope blooming in Steve’s chest is slowly tearing itself apart as he waits for Tony to say something, _anything._

 

“What’s the second thing, Tony?” Steve can’t take the silence anymore. He feels the attention shift towards him, the armor facing him as well. Tony removes the helmet and sets it down beside him. He’s looking right at Steve, giving him the same reassuring smile he always has. There’s a flash of something he might dare to call _love_ in his eyes. Tony’s moving his eyes away from Steve and the moment is gone in an instant. He lifts the gauntlet slowly, staring at it like it’s the world’s greatest creation.

 

“The second thing is,” he pauses, moving his gaze back to Steve. The smile is gone and his eyes are hard. Steve’s stomach clenches at the finality of the situation. If he didn’t know any better he’d think Tony was almost saying goodbye. “I wish the gems and the gauntlet out of existence.”

 

“Stark, wait!” Strange yells from besides Steve. The gems and the gauntlet vanish before he finishes.

 

And then Tony screams.

 

The gauntlet emits a blinding white light, and Steve can’t help but look away, covering his eyes. The scream is so agonizing it’s almost deafening. It’s a scream Steve hears in his nightmares. The ones where he can’t save his team, _can’t save Tony_ , and then he’s drowning in the bottomless ocean reaching for something that isn’t there. The panic clawing at his chest becomes too much and Steve doesn’t care about anything else except Tony.

 

“Tony!” he screams, his legs carrying him towards the armored man. There’s a hand on his shoulder trying to pull him back, away from the light of the gauntlet. He begs for whoever it is to _let go_ ; Tony needs him. The blinding light ceases and for a moment Steve can’t breathe, the sight of Tony unconscious and still on the ground knocking every ounce of air out of him. It plays out like one of those dramatic movies Tony secretly loves so much: everyone rushing towards him and Steve can’t move an inch. He watches as Carol falls to her knees, her hand reaching for Tony’s neck on instinct.

 

“The gauntlet is gone,” Reed mumbles almost curiously and Steve wants to hit him because Tony could be _dead_ and he’s preoccupied with the goddamn gauntlet.

 

“I found a pulse,” Carol almost sobs, “It’s not strong though. He needs a hospital.”

 

Thor moves forward calmly and carefully lifts Tony off the ground. It snaps Steve out of whatever trance he was in. The ‘Commander Rogers’ mask slips on and he’s barking orders, his voice steady and firm.

 

“Strange, we need a portal now.” He gets a nod in confirmation and suddenly they’re all standing in SHIELD medbay. It’s like a switch is flipped: everyone moving around, doctors rushing Tony down the corridor. There are words being spoken but Steve doesn’t pick up any of them. His ears are ringing, his breath the only thing he hears.. He watches as Carol disappears around the corner, Maria Hill right behind her questioning what happened.

 

Steve can’t help but think, _It’s my fault._

 

Arms wrap around him again, this time gentler. They turn him slowly and guide him towards the chairs Steve has just noticed are there. He hears his name being repeated and he turns to find Spider-Woman.

 

“Cap? Come on, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” she soothes him. He stays silent, staring at the doors, almost willing them to open and reveal Tony. He wishes Tony would burst through the door, laughing hysterically. He’d look at Steve and smile, _‘Did you really think I’d go that easily, Winghead?’_

 

His eyes burn at the thought. The last  time Steve saw him, before this, he kicked him off the team. He had known how important the Avengers were to Tony, how much he needed them, and he threw it back in his face. Tony hadn’t argued with him, never tried to put up a fight. It felt too much like the war, Tony laying under him, the look of utter defeat on his face. He lets out a choked off noise, his chest tightening. Jess pulls him close, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. It’s strange and awkward to them both, neither of them needing to comfort each other like this before.

 

“He’s gonna be just fine, Cap. Tony’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. He’s not going to let something like this stop him.” He knows she’s right; Tony has gone through so much and continuously fights back. Tony’s persistence, his refusal to conform to what the terrorists wanted him to be lead to Iron Man’s creation.

 

It’s one of the infinite reasons Steve loves him.

 

He loses track of time, the exhaustion from the past few days finally catching up with him. Jess stays by his side, and one by one, the rest of the Avengers seem to fill up the room. They had always found comfort in each other in times of need. It’s why they all work so well together, they were a family. The hard clacking of boots on the tile floor draws everyone’s attention to Maria Hill. Her face is blank, stern lines on her forehead and lips pressed together in a straight line. Steve can’t get a proper reading from her, not sure if she is going to say the words Steve dreads the most.

 

She stops in front of him, looking at the other Avengers before focusing on Steve.

 

His breathing is erratic and he wishes she would make it quick.

 

She sighs instead.

 

“He’s alive.” Relief floods through him and he’s moving to get up, to ask to see Tony, when Maria holds up a hand. “However, there was a complication.” With those words Steve’s moment of solace vanishes and a fresh round of panic hits him like a freight train. His thoughts swim with all the different possibilities of what could have gone wrong. Were they too late? Was Steve too slow? Would Tony ever be able to be Iron Man again?

 

Carol appears from around the corner, her face pale. She answers the question before Steve or anyone else can ask it. “He doesn’t remember.”

  
  
Clint speaks up, “Doesn’t remember the whole Hood situation?”

 

Carol shakes her head, “Doesn’t remember _anything._ For fuck’s sake he doesn’t even know who he is.”

 

Her words rip apart the last remaining shred of hope that Steve clings to. Tony’s memory was gone? Years of his life, his friendships, his relationships, all the inventions, _Iron Man,_ gone. All the memories he and Tony have shared-

 

_Oh God._

 

“It’s best if we just leave him be for now. He’ll have to stay here for a couple of days and then we’ll transfer him to the tower,” Maria informs them. Steve’s waiting for the punchline, for someone to say Tony will get his memories back within a day or so; that everything will go back to normal. But no one speaks. The silence is damning and before Steve can talk himself out of it, he’s charging past both Maria and Carol and heading towards Tony’s room. The others call his name and their voices slowly fade out when he enters the room.

 

Tony looks exactly the same as he had before everything took a turn for the worse, given he’s much paler. His skin is covered with a thin layer of sweat, most likely from being encased in the armor. However, it’s his eyes that throw Steve off completely. The usually confident, hopeful look is gone. Instead, it’s been replaced by confusion and, to Steve’s horror, fear. Tony’s looking at him like Steve’s grown three heads and Steve wants to cry. There’s no recognition in Tony’s eyes.

 

“Look, I just talked to the woman in the uniform, who quite honestly _terrifies_ me. I really don’t have the energy to answer anymore questions. I’m sorry.” It’s Tony’s voice but it’s so _different._

 

“Do you, uh, do you know who I am?” He asks resignedly. He knows the answer already.

 

Tony looks at him and, for a moment,a spark of hope blooms within him. Maybe Tony knows his identity, maybe there’s still a chance. But then Tony’s retreating, curling in on himself, and giving him a guilty look.

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t really even know what’s going on.” Steve wants to grab him and shake him, scream at him. How can he not recognize his best friend, ( _could Steve even call himself that?_ ) his teammate? He knows he’s being irrational, that none of this is actually Tony’s fault, but he can’t help the way his eyes warm and his stomach twists. He nods solemnly, backing up towards the exit, avoiding eye contact. He apologizes quietly before practically running out the door.

 

Tony calls for him to wait; instead he runs faster.  

 

\---

 

It’s been four days since Tony woke up with no memories. Four days since he told Steve he had no recollection of him. Four days since Steve ran out of the hospital, blinded by unshed tears.

 

The first night had been the roughest if he was being honest. He laid in bed for what felt like years, forcing his eyes shut and taking slow deep breaths. When it was clear sleep was no longer an option, he took to walking through the tower. He’d done this multiple times, when the nightmares were so bad he feared staying still for too long in the darkness. It was enjoyable at first, getting to see the tower at its quietest moment. There were no arguments, no sounds of the television. It was peaceful, beautiful even. But like always, reality set in and turned all the beauty into pure unadulterated ugliness. Everything he looked at reminded him of Tony; reminded him of all the memories they shared, memories Tony no longer remembered.

 

Thor had found him asleep outside the workshop the next morning.

 

Embarrassed, Steve had quickly gotten up, thanked Thor and continued on like nothing had happened. The remaining three days were spent burying himself in work, and avoiding the other Avengers at all cost. Steve wants to laugh at the idea of Tony telling him he must’ve rubbed off on him, but he can’t.

 

Carol and Jess bring Tony home once he’s released from SHIELD’s medbay. The whole team is waiting in the commons room, no one daring to speak. It’s awkward and unusual, the opposite of how they normally interact, and it puts Steve on edge.

 

When Tony finally arrives, he greets everyone with a small wave and timid smile. It’s all so _wrong_ and Steve can’t help but tense up. Tony’s never been sheepish or quiet, he’s always been loud; his entire presence sucking up the oxygen in the room. There’s a hand on his shoulder and suddenly he’s face-to-face with Carol.

 

“Could I talk to you for a moment?” Carol asks.

 

Steve gives a curt nod before following her into the hallway, away from the rest of the group. She looks at him with pity in her eyes.

 

“I know this is hard but,” she pauses, rubbing the back of her neck, “we all think it would be best if you showed him around. Might help him jog his memory or something.”

 

He wants to say no. He wants to say he’s the last person that should be helping Tony, that one of the last memories Tony has is Steve fighting him and kicking him off the team. But he thinks of Tony, alone and _lost_ in this now foreign place. Steve’s too tired to argue with anyone anymore. He can help Tony, show him around and help bring the memories back. And if Tony remembers the war and the rift between them and decides he can’t forgive Steve a second time, well, Steve will be able to handle it. He’ll have to if it means he can help Tony in any way.

 

He tells Carol he’ll do it, and she smiles, a fragile thing, her gaze sympathetic. If she sees Steve tearing apart at the seams, shattering by the very weight of the situation, she doesn’t say anything.

 

The rest of the Avengers suddenly seem to have other plans to attend to by the time Carol and Steve return. One by one, they say their goodbyes to Steve and Tony. Steve gives them a curt smile and Tony shyly waves. The elevator closes a final time and Steve’s painfully aware of the awkward silence now filling the room.

 

“So… this is definitely not what I was expecting when Karen told me I was going home.” He sounded uncertain.

 

“I think you mean _Carol._ ” Steve tries to sound helpful. He wants to scream that Tony has known Carol for years; they had supported each other in AA for God’s sake. He knows that, at this point, it would be a waste of time.

 

Tony rubs the back of his head, giving Steve the same guilty look he’d given him in the hospital. “Sorry, yeah—Carol. I still get stuck on names.”

 

“It’s okay, you’ll get it eventually.” Steve reassures him.

 

The silence is deafening. They’ve never had a moment like this, where the quiet takes over so easily. There’s always something for them to talk about; missions, plans, what they ate for lunch- _anything._

 

Edwin Jarvis breaks the silence.

 

“Good morning, Sir. Captain.” Steve wants to thank God for him. Maybe Jarvis could show Tony around. It might make things easier when Tony’s memories come back. At least, he could never hate Jarvis. Tony’s looking at the older man analytically, like he’s trying to force his brain to show some recollection of him. When Jarvis’ eyes give away his anguish, Steve says, “Jarvis has worked with you and your family since you were younger.”

 

Jarvis extends his hand tentatively, all signs of sadness replaced with an old weathered smile.

 

“Edwin Jarvis, at your service, Sir. I’ve been with the Stark family for over thirty years now. I help cook, clean, and take care of any housework that needs to be done.”

 

Steve wonders if Jarvis is taking the loss as hard as he is. It makes him feel just a little more guilty, comparing himself to the older man. What right did Steve actually have to mourn his relationship with Tony? Jarvis had raised him from the moment Tony was brought into the world; he was practically Tony’s father, and here Steve was whining over a friendship he’d lost years ago.   

 

“What kind of functioning adult am I? I have other people do things for me?” Tony blurts out confusedly. It makes Jarvis chuckle.

 

“It is not an issue, sir. Taking care of you and the other Avengers is something I take pleasure in.”

 

Tony smiles hesitantly at the response. “I take it you and I are close? I’m sorry I don’t remember, but please don’t take it personally. I don’t actually remember anyone.” He glances at Steve and once again, reality rears its ugly head. He knows Tony is addressing not only Jarvis but Steve, as well. They hadn’t talked about Steve storming out of the hospital days ago, and the thought of Tony confronting him about it makes his stomach churn.

 

There’s another awkward pause between the three of them and Jarvis clears his throat before excusing himself. Steve watches the man exit and thinks, _‘so much for leaving Tony with him.’_ He’ll have to do it himself.

 

“Come on,” he says, forcing a smile, “I’ll show you around.”

 

-

 

He shows Tony the different rooms of the tower, starting with the kitchen and then the gym. He takes him onto each of the Avengers’ floors and shows him the room the Avengers’ meetings take place.

 

He saves the lab for last.

 

To say Tony’s shocked by the large room is an understatement. His lips part softly and his eyes dart around, trying to take in everything at once. He gently touches the tools and half-built inventions curiously.

 

He turns to Steve.

 

“I built all of these?” When Steve nods in return, Tony’s eyes light up, and for the first time Steve sees a flicker of the old Tony reappear. The same Tony whose eyes would brighten in mischievous situations, or when he’d finally found an answer to a problem he’d spend days focusing on. Steve’s stomach flips and _god,_ he’d do anything to have the old Tony back. “So, what’s our story? Teammates? Friends? Acquaintances?”

 

Steve fumbles. “Uh, the first two. We’ve known each other for a pretty long time.” Tony nods processing the information.

 

“I figured. I felt pretty guilty watching you leave the hospital yesterday. Plus, talking to you comes pretty naturally, like we’ve done this a million times. Must be muscle memory by now. I’m sorry I don’t remember.”

 

It all becomes too much too quickly. Being around Tony like this reminds him that his Tony- _not his, just Tony-_ is gone. He feels as though the air around them is stifling, closing his throat tighter and tighter with every breath. It feels like he’s back under the ice, drowning and gasping for air. It’s too much.

 

“I’m going to uh, leave you to yourself for a bit. I’ll, um, be upstairs if you need me. Just don’t- don’t touch anything too dangerous, alright?” He needs to leave, to be anywhere else but here.

 

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good, thanks.” Tony gives him the green light to leave and Steve takes the opportunity, bolting from the room similar to the way he’d fled from Tony’s hospital room.

 

He finds Natasha in the gym. She asks him to spar and he says yes a little too quickly. She’s worried about him, he knows, but she doesn’t hold back and for that Steve’s grateful.

 

“So, having Tony here feels a bit odd.” He grunts in response. She doesn’t ask him about it directly, giving Steve the option of not going into detail on the subject. She kicks, her form perfect. It’s not something he wants to talk about at the moment, after all he’d come here to get Tony off his mind. He lunges, she dodges. He expects her to drop the subject and move on.

 

“Are you okay?” she asks and it catches Steve off guard, so much so that, he misses her sweeping leg and tumbles to the mat. She extends her hand, helping him to his feet. She urges again, “Talk to me, Steve.”

 

“I’m glad Tony’s home. The situation could have been much worse and I’m grateful he’s okay. I’m fine,” he huffs, and only half of that statement is true. He’s lying to himself, to her, and she knows it. She’s trained in this sort of thing and Steve’s never really been the kind of person who can lie through his teeth.

 

“Maybe it’s for the better,” she starts carefully, “you’ve had a messy past. Maybe this is your chance to work on building something better with each other.” He knows deep down that some part of her statement is right. Tragedy runs through their relationship; it has since day one. But their past is what helped Steve fall in love with Tony. He’d go through it all again if it meant he’d love Tony as much as he does now. Even though the war left them broken beyond repair, Steve has his memories to glue himself back together.

 

“I love him because of our past.” It feels weird to say it out loud, like it’s something taboo, but he knows Natasha is aware of his feelings. She’s probably known about them longer than Steve has. She looks at him a bit longer before nodding once. It’s the end of their conversation and the end of their sparring session.

 

He showers longer than usual. Let’s the hot water run over his skin like it will wash away the sins of the day. He doesn’t bother dealing with his hair and instead lays under his sheets, wet hair dripping down his forehead. Below him Tony is sleeping, oblivious to the world around him. He wonders if there is a timeline where Tony is laying next to him, curled around him snoring softly. He yearns for a scene like that, misses it like a phantom limb. His eyes burn.

 

He falls asleep in a cold, empty bed.  

 

-

 

He wakes in the morning with a hollowness in his chest.

 

He lays there for a moment, debating if hiding away under the covers would be better than facing reality. His stomach growls and he curses softly, his body making the decision for him. He makes his way downstairs, cautiously trying to avoid contact with anyone. He’ll grab something from the refrigerator and either go for a walk, or go back to bed-

 

He hears voices coming from the kitchen. _Damnit._ He can hear Tony’s voice: he sounds happy and awake. Steve thinks of the mornings he would find a sleep-deprived Tony clutching his fourth or fifth cup of coffee close to his chest. It’s another memory that means nothing now. The new Tony apparently sleeps enough to function fully in the morning. Steve supposes it’s a good thing; no more late night lab binges and a proper sleep schedule.

 

He can’t bring himself to feel happy about it.

 

He hears a laugh from the kitchen and he knows it isn’t from Tony. He peeks around the corner, sees Clint with his head thrown back, one arm grasping Tony’s arm. There’s a smile on Tony’s face and Steve has to look away before the pain in his chest becomes too much.

 

“Aye, I see our two comrades have made up.” He hears Thor before he feels his large hand on his shoulder. He squeezes once, a form of comfort, and Steve just stares at the two Avengers in the kitchen. “I am glad to see them speaking to one another. Anthony could use the interaction. Perhaps it will even help recover some memories.”

 

Steve nods, not trusting his voice. He can’t speak, too afraid of the noise that will escape. He wishes Thor will realize his discomfort and drop the subject. Unfortunately, his silence does nothing to stop Thor from continuing.

 

“When I had discovered what Anthony had done with that damned clone, I was angry. I cursed his name and wished to never see him again. Now,” Thor inhales shakily and sighs, “I would never wish this upon anyone, least of all him. He is truly a good man with good intentions. We will fix this, Steven. Do not fear, he will be himself once again.”

 

His chest is burning now, lungs weighing him down. He can feel his chest growing tighter, the hollowness from earlier spreading to the rest of his body. He manages a quiet “ _I know”_ before clearing his throat and excusing himself.

 

His appetite is long forgotten.

 

-

 

Steve doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the day. He can’t bring himself to venture outside, to face anyone, to face _Tony_ . He distracts himself with paperwork, SHIELD mission reports and Avengers business, anything he can get his hands on. He grabs a sketchbook and begins to draw, focusing on the curves and lines and getting the shading _just right_.

 

When he sees those familiar eyes on the paper he slams the book shut and throws it away like it burned him.

  


He lays in bed after that, the clock reading far past midnight. He debates going down to the gym but decides against it, for fear of another conversation like the one he had with Natasha. He’s content to lay here, let exhaustion consume him, and bring him a dreamless sleep. He shouldn’t be surprised that, everytime he closes his eyes, a memory of Tony flickers behind his eyelids. It becomes clear that he’s too frustrated. Maybe going to the gym would be beneficial. As late as it is, he thinks no one will be up and wandering the tower.

 

There’s a knock on his door. Guess he was wrong.

 

He opens it to find Tony on the other side.

 

“Hi,” Tony says sheepishly, like a child who was caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

 

“Hi,” Steve says back. He wants to ask if Tony’s alright, if he’s hurt, _if he remembers-_

 

“Could I, uh- I mean if this isn’t a good time? You were probably sleeping, I’ll just go-” It’s something the old Tony would say, and it makes Steve’s heart flutter. Tony’s rambling is always amusing to him, and even given their circumstances, Steve couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. He opens the door a little wider and moves towards the bed.

 

“You can come in; I wasn’t sleeping.” Tony takes a tentative step into the room and an awkward silence fills the air. Steve wants to speak, to say anything to break out of this odd funk they’ve been in, but he doesn’t even know where to begin. How do you start a conversation with someone you’ve known for years, have loved for years, but they no longer remember you? If Steve starts reminiscing, will it make Tony feel even more alone? He’s not sure, but the selfish part of him wants to give it a try, to see if there is any chance that going over more memories will help bring back the ones Tony lost.

 

“Do you hate me?” Tony blurts out into the uncomfortable air.

 

The question takes Steve by surprise. He’s not sure if it’s because Tony had asked it so suddenly or because the question itself is unfathomable. Steve doesn’t think there’s any part of him that could hate the genius.

 

“Why would you think that?”  

 

Tony rubs his left arm, avoiding eye contact.

 

“I know you’ve been avoiding me,” he whispers, and if it wasn’t for the serum, Steve’s not sure he would have heard it, “You ran out of the lab the other day after being around me for thirty minutes, and you don’t seem to like being alone with me. I know I don’t have all the pieces to the puzzle, but you can tell me if you, ya know, don’t want to be around me.”

 

He can’t find the right words to say to Tony. _‘_ I don’t hate you’ doesn’t seem to be a sufficient answer. He’s not sure saying ‘I could never hate someone as beautiful as you’ is a good idea either. Tony continues, ignoring Steve’s silence.

 

“I googled myself, by the way. Looked at my biography. I wouldn’t be too surprised if you hated me. There seems to be a pretty decent amount of people who feel the same. I may not remember any of it but, I think I can understand why you would.” Tony clears his throat, lifts his head and stares right into Steve’s eyes. “Can I ask what I did to you?”

 

When Steve’s brain starts to function properly again, he shakes his head, trying to clear the rest of the fog away.

 

“I don’t hate you, Tony. I never have.” He pats the place next to him, an invitation. Tony takes it graciously. “I’m from the 40’s and was frozen in ice for 70 years. Nothing about my life has ever been normal. The only friend I had was Bucky, and I couldn’t even keep him. But, when I woke up from the ice, you were the first person I saw. Granted, you had the Iron Man armor on, but you were still so _nice._ You welcomed me into the 21st century,”

 

“The Iron Man armor. That’s the red and gold thing I saw in the lab, right?”

 

Steve nods. “You built that suit years ago, but it was beautiful even back then. You have the most incredible mind, but your personality made you extraordinary. I’ve always been amazed by it. One second you were making bets to walk naked through New York, and the next you were visiting children at school and making sure everyone was alright after an attack on the city.”

 

“Wow.” is the only response he gets. Steve can’t help the chuckle that escapes.

 

“You’re a pretty amazing person, Tony Stark.”

 

He looks into Tony’s eyes, in the dim light, they almost look black. His gaze, because he has absolutely no self control, flickers down to Tony’s lips. He could move just an inch closer and he’d finally know the feel of Tony’s lips against his own.

 

“You were the first person who wanted to get to know Steve Rogers, not Captain America.”

 

Tony leans in, eyes sliding shut in anticipation. Tony kissing him is everything Steve thought it would be, and nothing like his dreams at all. He had imagined it would be desperate, passionate. Instead it’s soft and sweet. It’s almost as though both are too afraid to push, the fragile thing between them at risk of shattering. It’s everything Steve had ever hoped for.

 

 _But what if this isn’t what Tony wanted?_ He had no recollection of the events that transpired between them. He knows nothing about the war, nothing about Steve straddling the armor pounding his shield repeatedly into Tony’s face, nothing about begging Steve to _finish it._

 

When Tony gets his memories back, he’s going to regret this. It will ruin what little remains of their friendship. Losing Tony forever will ruin Steve.

 

So, despite his body pleading with him not to, he pulls away.

 

“I’m sorry, but we can’t.”

 

Tony gives a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Steve wants to take it back immediately, wants to kiss the sadness away. Tony gets up and distances himself from Steve. It hurts, and he has to stop himself from reaching out and asking Tony to stay.

 

“I understand.” Tony’s voice is calm, a stark difference from how Steve feels, “I’ll just go.”

 

He walks towards the door, glancing back one last time, and closes the door behind him. The sound of the lock clicking echoes in the now quiet room.  

 

Steve covers his face with his hands and lets out a sigh of frustration. Natasha’s words play over in his mind, _maybe it’s for the better._ He repeats it to himself, hoping that eventually it will stick and remain true. He let’s the tears fall openly, doesn’t bother to wipe them. He has no energy to fight his emotions right now. He’s mourning, the same way he had when he’d woken up from the ice, when he’d discovered that everyone and everything he had ever cared about was gone. He mourns the same way he had when he discovered everyone had lived a life without him.

 

He mourns the possibility of what could have been.

 

-

 

He fears waking up some days.

 

He fears waking up in a world that is different, that is no longer his. He fears waking up to find his loved ones have lived an entire life, or have lived and passed on. He’s done it once already, and he’s not sure he could do it a second time.

 

For the first time since the ice, he wishes he’d wake up to a different future.

 

Perhaps one where Tony lays next to him, curled into his chest, breathing softly. One where Steve could bend down and gently press his lips to the genius’ forehead as he sits at the breakfast table.

 

Instead he wakes with tear-stained cheeks and numbness.

 

-

 

He hasn’t set foot in the lab since everything with Parker Robbins happened; since Tony lost his memory.

 

It still looks the same.

 

He had brought Tony down here six days ago, once he was back home. He remembers the complete awe on his face, the wonder in his eyes. Tony must have listened to Steve when he told him not to touch anything dangerous. He supposes Tony decided everything was too dangerous—nothing had been moved.

 

Tony’s projects are scattered around the room, pieces of metal and equipment strewn across workbenches. The bots are shoved in the corner, charging Steve assumes. He wonders if they know that something is wrong with Tony. He wonders if they’ll feel the loss of their creator when they see he’s not himself.

 

He finds the armor in the middle of the room, red and gold metallic staring him in the face. He remembers seeing the armor for the first time and being absolutely terrified of it, until he heard that voice through the suit’s speaker.

 

_That’s what we were about to ask you._

 

His throat constricts and he has to look away before he gets sick. That had been years ago, when a friendship was beginning to bloom. Before the war, before Steve had screamed at Tony and asked if it was worth it. Before Steve had _died,_ and before they lost the closeness between them.

 

He doesn’t know if Tony even wants to be _Iron Man_ anymore, let alone be an Avenger.

 

Steve runs his hand down the front of the armor, the smooth metal cooling his fingertips.

 

“I’m sorry, Shellhead.”

 

The first time he had been welcomed into the lab was before he had figured out that Tony was Iron Man. Tony had called him, sounding out of breath and delighted, and told him he had some updates for him. Steve had shown up and been stunned at the technology in the room. There were files and papers strewn everywhere and tools scattered in various places. Tony rambled on about the different modifications he had made to his uniform and, while Steve didn’t always quite understand it, he was enamored with the billionaire’s passion. Steve asked questions and, instead of getting annoyed or angry, Tony had smiled gently and broke things down for him. He helped Steve to better understand the new world around him. Steve was forever grateful there was no pity in the man’s eyes.

 

There’s a consistent beeping coming from Tony’s main computer, the screen blinking in front of him. It’s an incoming video call. Drawn away from his memories, Steve accepts the call.

 

Reed Richards’ face appears on the other end. He looks worn down, dark circles under his eyes, hair unkempt like he’d been constantly running his fingers through it. Steve remembers seeing Tony like this on a few occasions. He wonders if it’s a brilliant scientist thing.

 

“Steve, just the person I was looking for.”

 

“Reed,” he gives an acknowledging nod, “how’d you know I’d be down here?”

 

“I’ve actually been calling every ten minutes waiting for someone to eventually answer,” Reed jokes and, despite everything, Steve can’t help but smile.

 

“I contacted Spider Woman first. She told me you’d most likely be down here.”

 

Steve doesn’t question why Jess would know that.

 

“What can I do for you Reed?”

 

Reed’s mood shifts, making Steve nervous. The joking tone is gone completely and Steve knows whatever he says next isn’t going to cause him to smile again.

 

“It’s about Tony,” he states solemnly. “Steve, I- We’ve run every test imaginable. I’m sorry, but we don’t know what caused Tony’s memory loss. And unless we know what caused it,” he swallows nervously. Steve can hear his heart hammering away in his ears. “Until we know what caused it, I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”

 

It feels like a truck rams straight into him, ripping away any sign of hope he still has left. He waits for Reed to throw him a bone, tell him there were still options they could explore.

 

Reed doesn’t seem to get the memo.

 

“There’s only one theory we have at this point: whatever happened to Tony was caused by the stones. I took the liberty of looking into different universes and I can infer with the collected data that the stones had an effect on him. Unfortunately, Tony wished them out of existence, and we have no way the reverse the effects. I’m sorry, Steve. Hank and I will keep trying, but without the gauntlet or the stones, it’s going to prove very difficult.”

 

Steve wants to yell, to punch the screen until the glass shatters around him. He wants to find Tony and scream at him for being so reckless, for wishing the stones away. He wants to laugh at the irony that the one thing that caused the most damage was the only thing that could cure Tony.

 

Instead he thanks Reed before disconnecting the feed.

 

The couch sinks beneath him, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders. Face in his hands, the fight leaves him, despair taking its place.

 

-

 

The tower is quiet in the evening. There’s no laughter, no play fighting, just a tantalizing silence.

 

Steve considers going straight to the comfort of his bed, but he realizes that sleep is most likely not going happen for him tonight, not after the news Reed delivered. Instead he pushes the button for the commons, and closes his eyes as the elevator begins to move.

 

A shuffling noise and glass clinking grabs Steve’s attention. He wants to retreat, the idea of socializing with anyone right now too much for him to bear. Yet, he finds himself moving closer to the noise, his stomach clenching with nerves.

 

He finds Tony sitting at the island in the kitchen, staring at the wall in front of him. He takes a sip of amber liquid and places the glass down, emitting the same clinking sound Steve had heard earlier.

 

Steve sees the bottle of scotch too late.

 

Tony startles when Steve knocks the glass out of his hand,.

 

“Steve, what the fuck?” He’s breathing hard and Steve knows he’s scared, can see the slight tremble in his body.

 

“How long have you been drinking?” Tony looks at him, confusion clear on his face. He’s looking at Steve like he’s trying to solve a particularly hard equation, and he’s not answering. _Damnit how long has he been drinking-_ “Tony! How long have you been drinking?”

 

“I just opened the bottle. It’s my first glass, Jesus.” He breaks eye contact, his face flushed with anger. “Why does it even matter? I don’t need a damn babysitter. I can take care of my-”

 

“ _You’re a recovering alcoholic, Tony._ ”

 

The sentence stops Tony instantly, all anger replaced by fear.

 

“What?” Tony stares at the broken glass on the floor; Steve stares at Tony. He watches him swallow thickly a few times, the color draining from his face with every second. “How uh, how long have I been sober?”

 

Steve closes his eyes at the question and he doesn’t want to answer. He knows it isn’t going to help the situation, but not telling him or lying won’t make it better either. He wishes now more than ever that Tony remembered so he didn’t have to hurt the man again. He wishes Tony remembered so he never picked up the scotch in the first place.

 

“You’ve been sober for a few years.” Tony flinches harshly, “There was an incident recently where you relapsed. You gave up your sobriety to speak with Odin, but you haven’t drank since.”

 

Tony nods like he actually understands and knows what Steve is talking about.  

 

“I’m sorry, I should have- someone should have said something to you earlier. I’m sorry.” it seems like those two words are the only ones Steve can say anymore. He’s constantly apologizing to Tony, and never about the same subject. He can never be sorry enough when it comes to Tony.

 

“You don’t have to apologize.” Tony’s still pale and looking anywhere but at Steve. He thinks he sees disgust and shame on Tony’s face and it makes his chest hurt. Tony rises from the stool, legs shaking so minutely that anyone without the serum wouldn’t be able to tell. He gives Steve a smile and pulls himself together before Steve can even blink. “I’m actually exhausted. I’m gonna hit the hay. Night.”

 

Steve watches Tony leave, his name on the tip of his tongue, his fingertips itching to reach out and touch him.

 

It’s unnerving how fast Tony’s emotions have shifted. He’s hiding behind the mask Steve had spent years tearing down.

 

 _He’s like a machine_ , Steve thinks. _Hit the reset button and it’s back to default settings._

 

-

 

The creaking of the door puts Steve on alert instantly. The bedroom is dark, all except the alarm clock offering a dim light. He listens as light footsteps make their way closer to the bed, to him.

 

He hears a sniffle.

 

“Steve?”

 

Tony sounds hurt, his voice rough and thick with emotions. Steve’s up instantly, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. He can make out Tony’s frame, shudders wracking his body. Steve leans over the dresser and flicks the small lamp on.

 

With the lights on, he can see the tears falling down Tony’s cheeks. It’s almost a beautiful sight: streaks highlighting his cheekbones and the redness of his eyes accenting the blue of his irises. He trembles before him, sobs wracking his body violently.

 

“Tony? What’s wrong?”

 

Tony shakes his head.

 

Steve scans for injuries but finds nothing physically wrong with him.

 

“ _I don’t know._ I think- I had a nightmare,” He looks down at his feet, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “I found myself here, I’m not entirely sure why.” He moves towards the bed and looks at the spot next to Steve, then looks at Steve as if asking for permission. Steve pats the sheets next to him as an invitation; Tony takes it graciously.

 

“Would you like to talk about it?” They had done this countless times before, recounting nightmares to each other. Tony was one of the only people Steve had ever really trusted to tell his fears. Tony had told him about his fear of failure, of disappointment. Steve had told Tony about his fear of the cold, and his fear of losing everything. He had told Tony things he’d never shared with anyone else.

 

The only thing Steve never told Tony was how he felt about him.

 

“I was struggling, fighting with someone. I think we were outside? I had this armor on, the one from the lab, I think? But it was cracked and didn’t do much to protect me. I don’t know, I could only catch glimpses of things. I just kept hearing ‘ _finish it’_ and _‘it wasn’t worth it’_ repeated over and over again. There was this stabbing pain in my chest, and I kept thinking this was it. I was going to die with all this pain, regret, and loneliness.”

 

Tony’s crying by the end of it, and Steve thinks he might be sick.

 

He knows exactly what Tony is talking about; he’s had similar nightmares himself. _It was the goddamn civil war for god’s sake._ Of all the things Tony could have remembered about his life, it had to be Steve’s biggest regret. The fight that had broken them both, damaging a decade long friendship. He can’t go through it a second time, can’t destroy something that hasn’t even gotten a chance to bloom.

 

It’s a selfish decision, he knows. Just another tick on a long list of selfish choices.

 

He wraps his arms gently around the genius and pulls him into his chest. Tony goes willingly, hands clenching in the fabric of Steve’s sleepshirt. The sobs make their way back, wretching themselves out of Tony. He holds him tightly, afraid that letting go the slightest will cause the man in his arms to break.

 

Tony cries out “ _I’m sorry”_ like a mantra. It’s a prayer begging to be answered.

 

Steve doesn’t ask why.

 

Instead, he holds Tony until he calms, whispering consoling words into the man’s ear. He feels selfish once again, for loving the feeling of the man so close to him, for getting to touch him like this.

 

Tony relaxes in his arms, breath evening out with every second. He must realize what they’re doing because once he’s calmed down enough, he pulls himself away. Steve tries not to react at the lack of heat. Tony stands and smiles at him, in a way that’s too familiar for Steve’s taste, and he starts for the door

 

Steve can almost feel the shame burning low in his stomach when he reaches out and grasps at Tony’s wrist. And because Steve has never been particularly good at hiding his feelings from Tony, he can’t stop himself from asking, “Stay? Please?”

 

He can feel the intensity in Tony’s stare, finds the hesitance there.

 

“What about the thing you said the other night? Something about us not being able to do this, right?”

 

Steve smiles sadly, knowing he’s already doomed their future friendship.

 

“You were never one to listen to anyone; me especially.”

 

Tony lets out a sudden laugh and it’s the most beautiful sound Steve has ever heard. He pulls back the sheets and tugs Tony under them. They fit like puzzle pieces, like they were shaped for this: Tony’s head fitting perfectly in the crook of Steve’s neck, his body melting into Steve’s warmth. Steve breathes in and smells grease, a hint of scotch and something that’s so distinctly _Tony._

 

He knows he’s setting himself up for hurt later, allowing himself to have this before it’s brutally ripped away from him when Tony gets his memories back. He falls asleep with Tony in his arms and a smile on his face.

 

He’s always been selfish, he knows this.

 

-

 

The sheets are cold the next morning.

 

He panics at first, trying to convince himself it wasn’t just a dream. But the pillow still smells of Tony and he knows it to be real.  

 

It’s the first morning in a long while that Steve wakes up feeling _happy._

 

Until the guilt rears its ugly head, whispering miserable truths about how this will only come back to bite him in the ass. He’s never had anything good for too long, and once Tony gets his memories back he’ll be cold and distant. He’ll hate Steve as much as he had before.

 

He wonders if Tony will listen to what Steve said about leaving the Avengers.

 

It’s late, ten o’clock in the morning, and his stomach grumbles in hunger. He swallows past the guilt, pasting a smile on his face as he heads upstairs, hoping to find Tony there.

 

Carol is the only one in the kitchen when he arrives and he tries not to let that chase away his smile.

 

_He left because he realized his mistake, soldier._

 

“Morning, Cap. You seem quite content this morning.” She smirks at him from behind her coffee mug. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, which is only more fuel for her. “Pepper came by earlier. She took Tony with her to SI. She mentioned something about needing his signature and how being back at his office could possibly help jog his memory.”

 

“Why do you think I care where Tony is?” He asks and it sounds false and forced even to him. Carol snickers before giving him a _don’t-pretend-no-one-saw-Tony-leave-your-room_ look. Her mood shifts, all signs of humor gone.

 

“I saw the open bottle of scotch.”

 

Steve tenses, knows that seeing it was most likely just as shocking for her as it was for him.

 

“Did he-” she stops, afraid to ask a question she already has an answer to. He doesn’t go into any detail; he doesn’t really want to.

 

Instead, what he says is, “When Tony’s back to normal, it’s important that you’re there for him, please,” It should answer her question and hopefully benefit them both. Lord knows Tony won’t be coming to him when this is all over.

 

He excuses himself when the air becomes too thick. He makes his way down to the lab, determined to find something- _anything_ \- to help Tony. He contacts the doctor from SHIELD, getting as much information from him as possible. When the information doesn’t help, he searches through drawers and cabinets, scans the computer files, and when those fail he resorts to googling ‘ _how to get someone's memory back.’_

 

Nothing helps him, but he refuses to give up. Reed had mentioned that, without the gauntlet, they had no chance of curing Tony. So, he focuses on the gauntlet; rummaging through Tony’s notes for anything that mentioned the golden glove.

 

It’s how he finds the photograph, stuck between two pages like a bookmark. It’s smudged around the edges, a sign that it had been touched frequently. In the image, Steve can see himself, Captain America garb and all, arms thrown around Thor and Iron Man’s shoulders. It’s from years ago, when the Avengers had first formed. Thor’s head is thrown back in laughter, Iron Man’s gesturing to something out of frame. Steve is laughing, head turned towards the metal mask. He remembers the joke Iron Man had told, a sign he was really just a man underneath the armor. Now knowing that it was Tony under there all along, it doesn’t surprise him that he looks absolutely enamored with the metal man.

 

“Steven.”

 

The voice startles him, causing him to whip around. The photo loosens in his grip, falling onto the workbench. Stephen Strange stands before him, a solemn expression on his face. He’s holding a small disc in his hand.

 

Steve hasn’t seen Strange since Tony had collapsed and no one had heard from him. There’s a spark of hope that he might have a solution.

 

“Strange, what are you doing here?”

 

“How is Tony doing?” he asks, avoiding the question. Steve eyes him warily before giving a small shrug.

 

“About as well as a man with no memories can be, I guess.” He wants to know why Strange is here, why he hasn’t come around sooner to see how Tony is doing. So he asks again, “What are you doing here Strange? Did Reed send you? Did you find something?” and because he has no self-restraint, “Is Tony going to be alright?”

 

Strange stares at him, something akin to pity in his eyes. He shakes his head and the hope blooming shrivels and wilts away like a flower. He should have known the answer by now; no one can seem to help Tony. Strange holds out the disc, and looks away. For the first time that Steve can remember, he sees shame cross the doctor’s face. It makes him nervous.

 

“I was given explicit instructions on what to do with this disc. I was to wait seven days before giving it to you.”

 

“I don’t understand-”

 

“I have not watched it myself, but I was told it would explain everything. It will explain what happened with Stark.”

 

Steve’s blood boils. “Why in god’s name did you not bring this earlier? I’ve- _we’ve_ \- been trying to figure this out for seven days! _Seven goddamn days!_ ” Strange looks at him, his shame gone and replaced with determination and arrogance.

 

“I was given _explicit_ instructions-”

 

“ _I don’t give a damn about the  instructions!”_ He’s gasping for breath, his lungs trying to devour any oxygen they can. His muscles clench and he’s trying hard not to swing at Strange. Punching him won’t solve anyone’s problems. “Who gave them to you? Who gave you the instructions?”

 

Strange doesn’t say anything for a moment.

 

“Tony.”

 

Steve’s heart stops.

 

“ _What?”_

 

“Steven, I’m sorry-”

 

He charges at Strange, shoving him against the wall of the lab.

 

“ _If this is some kind of sick, twisted joke-_ ”

 

Strange disappears in his grasp.

 

“I assure you it’s not.” He’s behind Steve now. He takes a deep breath, trying to process all the information Strange gave him. It clicks after a few moments.

 

“He knew this was going to happen,” Strange’s silence confirms his suspicions. “He came to you before everything, didn’t he?”  

 

Strange nodded in affirmation. “He paid me a visit the night before the incident with The Hood.”

 

Steve’s eyes burn, frustration setting in. “You knew this was going to happen. Why didn’t you talk him out of it? Why didn’t you stop him?” He blinks back the tears threatening to fall. He doesn’t understand, can’t fathom a reason why Tony would do this. Why he never thought about the consequences, about what this would do to everyone- to Steve. He knows Strange was just doing what he was told and his anger is partially directed at Tony for hiding this. He’s mad at himself for not realizing Tony was planning this earlier. He should have talked to him, listened to what he was going to do. Instead he threatened him and took away one of the only things that actually mattered to the genius.

 

“I’m truly sorry, Steven. As I’ve said, I have not looked at the tape. It was meant specifically for you.”

 

Steve wants to ask why the video is only for him and why Tony couldn’t have talked to him in person. He doesn’t get to ask; Strange disappears before he can.

 

He lets out a scream of frustration, slamming a hand down on the workbench. He wants nothing more than to go back to a week ago, before this shitstorm happened. He’d knock some sense into Tony, tell him he’s not alone, he’s never been alone, and he doesn’t have to make these choices.  

 

But he can’t; he’s stuck in the present, stuck with the issues at hand.

 

He’s stuck with this damn disc in his hand.

 

It doesn’t take long to set the video up. He’s not sure what’s on the disc, so as a precaution, he orders a lab lockdown.

 

Tony’s face pops up on the screen, his smile bright, and Steve wants to cry.

 

“Hey, Cap,” he starts, “If you’re watching this, it means it’s been a week sense the whole Parker Robbins fiasco. At least, I hope so. Hopefully Strange can follow simple directions, right?” He’s joking and _god,_ Steve misses this. “I know you’re gonna be mad. Try not to be angry with him. It was my decision to do this.”

 

The guilt suddenly sets in from attacking Stephen.

 

“Before you get all anxious and impatient, I didn’t exactly wish the gauntlet out of existence like you all might have believed. The gems and the gauntlet are both still out there. Namor and Strange have them.”

 

He’s furious at the idea that Tony had hidden something this important from him once again. Yelling about it would be pointless now, the Tony who knows what he did is simply a recording in a computer.

 

“I knew wielding the gauntlet would come with a price. Strange had said ‘ _No human has ever held the infinity gems together’._ I mean there’s plenty of worthy people who tried, why would I be the exception? Anyway, I figured the price would have something to do with this old thing.”

 

Tony taps his head with a self-deprecating smile.

 

“After everything that happened, the war, the illuminati, my relapse,” he swallows thickly, “people don’t need Tony Stark around. And I figured, well, Tony Stark can’t be Tony Stark if he doesn’t remember who he is. I was too much of a liability.”

 

Steve reaches for the screen, tracing the shape of Tony’s face. He wonders how the man in front of him could have believed the world was better off without him, without his intelligence and generosity. Steve realizes he’d most likely been a factor in this and it makes him sick.

 

“Steve,” Tony’s voice sounds utterly wrecked, “I’m sorry. _God, I’m so sorry._ When I left the cell, after everything. And then you _died_ and I-I wanted a drink so bad. And then I started hallucinating you every time I was alone. You kept asking me if it was worth it, and I couldn’t sleep,” he pauses and takes a few deep breaths, “Then the whole sacrifice to Odin thing happened. I gave up years of sobriety, and it was to save the world. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad things worked out but, it just made me think of how disastrous my life has been these past few years. And it didn’t just affect me, either. I was putting the people I cared about at risk. At least this way, with my mind wiped, I can start fresh. It’s better that Tony Stark has a new beginning as an average Joe instead of the arrogant rich boy. It’s better for everyone.”

 

Tony stares directly at the camera.

 

“I know it’s a lot to ask but, I hope you can forgive me. This isn’t the first time I’ve asked for forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last. I just hope that you can still be friends with the new me. He’s gonna need a good friend- I mean _I’m_ gonna need a good friend,” He smiles gently, “Being with you has always made me a better person.”

 

The video shuts off with an audible click.

 

Steve doesn’t know if he wants to laugh, cry, or scream by the end. He lowers his head to his chest, trying to breathe. In the end his body makes the decision for him, tears silently sliding down his cheeks. He closes his eyes, wishing he could lookup and find out this had all been some twisted nightmare.

 

Tony had known this was going to happen; had known that his memory was going to fail him and he’d gone through with it anyway. He saved everyone’s lives and paid a price for it. It’s such a Tony thing to do, putting his life at risk for the sake of others. Steve had always hated when Tony did things like this; he never let anyone in or told them his plans.

 

His SHIELD card beeps in his pocket.

 

He wipes his eyes, takes a deep breath and collects himself.

 

“Commander Rogers,” he states, his battlefield voice taking over.

 

“Commander, sir,  we need you. HYDRA is popping up on our radar. We’ve got a lead, but we need your expertise on the situation. It’d be a couple days away, sir.” The agent pauses, waiting for his response. He could lie, tell them he had other things going on, other leads to follow.

 

_Being friends with you has always made me a better person._

 

“I’ll be there shortly, agent. Commander Rogers out.”

 

-

 

He’s been gone for five days. He’d gotten all the intel he needed and sent it back to SHIELD. He’s currently residing in his motel room, staring at the ceiling above him.

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Tony.

 

It was inevitable; thinking of Tony came as naturally as breathing nowadays. Even as he was sneaking around a HYDRA base, his mind wandered to the genius.

 

He wondered if Tony had been disappointed when he came back with Pepper to find Steve gone.

 

Now, he lays here wondering, would Tony have changed his mind if Steve hadn’t kicked him off of the team? Would he have come to Steve? Told him what he was planning on doing? _He wouldn’t have been obligated to. Not after what you did during the war,_ his mind supplies for him. He knows that to be true; Tony probably had no trust left in Steve. He remembers being in the cell, screaming at Tony, asking if any of it had been worth it. Steve had known from the very end of the fight that it wasn’t, not for him.

 

His phone rings and he chooses to ignore it. He’s not in the mood to deal with anything right now. He’d given SHIELD everything he had, he could be debriefed when he got back, whenever that would be. He wants to stay here in this grimy motel to get away from it all, to be alone.

 

He’s given peace for all of five seconds before the phone starts ringing again. Groaning, he reaches for the phone and looking at the caller ID.

 

It’s Tony.

 

He contemplates answering it. He doesn’t want to talk to the man who’d weighed so heavily on his mind. He’s not sure he can handle listening to the sound of his voice. But Tony wouldn’t call and interrupt a mission unless it was an emergency. He hits the green button to accept.

 

“Tony?” he asks and his voice sounds foreign to his own ears. There’s no answer on the other end, just the sound of heavy breathing. Steve’s stomach twists, nerves getting the best of him. He opens his mouth to speak again when the voice on the other end finally responds.

 

“ _I remember._ ” Tony sounds hoarse, and Steve wonders if he actually heard properly. “I remember, Steve. I remember _everything_.”

 

Steve’s breath catches, adrenaline racing through his blood. Tony keeps talking, mentions something about Strange and guilt and the stones, but Steve’s not paying attention.

 

Tony remembers.

 

He remembers who he is, the previous weeks, their past. He waits for Tony to tell him off, to scream at him for kissing him. He waits for Tony to destroy the last remaining thread of their friendship. He’s not sure he’ll be able to hold himself together if Tony isn’t a part of his life.

 

The line is silent and Steve realizes Tony has stopped talking and he’s waiting for Steve to say something. He can’t find the words. The only thing he can let out is a broken, “ _Tony_ ”. Tony shushes him gently over the phone.

 

“Steve, come home.”

 

-

 

The quinjet lands and Steve’s never felt so nervous.

 

The tower is quiet and Steve can’t actually remember the last time all the Avengers were together.

 

He finds Tony standing in the commons, fiddling with his hands and pacing. It’s a sign that he’s nervous. However, he spots Steve, the tension seems to leak away from his body. His lips curve into a small smile, his eyes softening. He starts towards Steve and Steve instantly finds himself stepping backwards. When he sees Steve retreat he tenses.

 

Seeing Tony brings out emotions Steve has been trying to repress for a while. He’s angry, remembering that Tony had done this willingly; he’d gone and thrown away everything without giving a damn about himself.

 

“Why?” he asks softly, and Tony swallows. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide it?” He has to know. Even if Tony’s response isn’t something he wants to hear, he has to know why Tony didn’t come to him. Tony steps forward unconsciously, and this time Steve stands still.

 

“If I had told you, you wouldn’t have let me do it.”

 

“Of course not, Tony! We could have figured out another way, stopped Robbins together. Sacrificing yourself isn’t the answer to every situation we run into!”

 

Tony breaks eye contact.

 

“If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else.”

 

“Why shouldn’t it be someone else for a change?” he shouts. He knows he doesn’t mean it, wouldn’t want anyone putting themselves in harms way. He’s just so tired of losing the people he cares about. Tony doesn’t miss a beat before shouting back.

 

“All my life I’ve had to watch the people I care about leave, and I am so _fucking sick of it._ So I started distancing myself, acting like the arrogant asshole the entire rest of the world thinks I am. Because if I don’t have anyone around, I won’t be devastated when they leave me. It worked for almost everyone. Everyone except _you._ You called me out on the bullshit from minute one and I tried- I tried so hard to not care about you. And I failed monumentally! You mean so much to me and if I had went to you about this you would have stopped me. You would have done something else, put yourself at risk. If you died Steve- if I had to watch you die _again,_ I don’t think I’d be able to put myself back together. I love you too fucking much. _I can’t lose you!_ ”

 

He’s sobbing, bearing all of himself to him. He’s vulnerable, completely open, and he loves _Steve._

 

_Tony Stark loves him._

 

He pulls Tony into his chest, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shaking frame. It feels like déjà vu, Tony fitting perfectly into the crook of Steve’s neck and the curves of his arms. It’s not actually a kiss, the way Steve presses his mouth to the top of Tony’s head and breathes him in. It smells like home.

 

“I’m not leaving you, Tony. I’m right here, I’m right here.” If he needs to, he’ll repeat it until the man believes. He’ll never leave Tony, not willingly. Tony shakes his head, the movement putting pressure against Steve’s chest.

 

“You can’t promise that.” Tony says it with such certainty, as if speaking from experience, and it makes Steve’s chest ache. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look Tony in the eye . He rubs his hand up and down Tony’s back.

 

“You’re right, I can’t promise that. But I can promise that I will never willingly leave you. I can promise to love you until my last breath, because I do, Tony. I love you so much. I’ve loved you ever since I came out of the ice.”

 

He leans forward, closing the distance between them. It’s not as soft as last time, both are more sure. It’s tender and passionate and _god_ , it’s amazing. He’ll never get over the feeling of Tony’s lips on his. He raises his hand to Tony’s neck, gently cradling his chin. He doesn’t want to pull away, he can’t, not yet, not ever. Tony’s hand finds its way to the center of Steve’s chest, fingers spreading around the fabric of his shirt. It’s all the encouragement Steve needs to keep going. He can’t stop the nervous fluttering in his stomach, the pure happiness that wells up in his chest. The kiss is full of love, not just from one of them, but both.

 

They’ve overcome so much together; the Skrull invasion, registration, and now this. They found solace in each other after the destruction. They’ve survived wars and loss, the universe pulling and pushing them together. And through it all Steve never doubted Tony. Not once.

 

You don’t doubt the one you love.

  


**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr or twitter: @starkpilot


End file.
